


Glade Guardian, Warrior Dream

by fridgehorror



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Death, Found Family, Gen, Revek is like a sibling to them, Revek is non-binary & uses they/them, Thistlewind & Markoth are brothers, minor descriptions of wounds, perspective change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26492653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fridgehorror/pseuds/fridgehorror
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

Revek's hands twist against the open wound in their chest in agony. The protector's chest rose and fell in heaved breaths, hemolymph splattered against the stone around them. Their nail lay a few feet away, out of range.

There was no point in retrieving it. 

Revek groans, futilely trying to cover the bleeding wound. It burned, and it didn't matter how much they kept themself from bleeding. They felt cold anywhere that the wound didn't touch. It was a sensation they didn't even know possible. 

Their horns hit the stone behind them with a clatter. They just couldn't find the strength to hold their head up any longer. Four eyes squeeze shut as they try to roll themself onto their side. Agony shot through them, and they cry out. Trembling, they wrap their arms around either side of themself. Pressure on the wound. Need to get to help. Just get help. They curl up, head in their chest, lying there. Everything was so blurry. And everything hurt. And...

They were going to bleed out, weren't they?

Footsteps. 

Someone else. Not the graverobber. The footfalls were light in comparison. Their assailant was much larger. Heavy.

Even in their daze they could hear the whizz of a nail, and a cry of pain echo from across the Glade. More footsteps. Behind them. They didn't have the energy to move. Did it matter? They were already dying. Revek's gaze was fixed on the stones beneath them, their mind swimming, hardly processing what went on around them. Hands hooked around either side of the spider, lifting them upwards. A choked sob of pain escapes their throat. Their head brushes against fur. A moth. 

"Rev?" Thistlewind? "Revek, can you hear me?"

They groan in response, unable to get words out. Pain seared their gut. They were afraid. They didn't want to be afraid. The protector buries their face into Thistlewind's collar mindlessly. He's shaking as he draws them closer. Quietly he shushes them, holding them close. Revek only continues to sob against his chest, hands trembling as they rose to grab at whatever they could find. They claw at their brother's arms, trying to grip anything just to ignore the drumming pain they felt in their gut.

\--

A thump from behind him. Thistlewind gazes up at Markoth, tears blurring his vision as he stares up at his little brother, bloodied nail in claws. The red moth silently ambles towards the two. 

Thistlewind can't help but sob. 

Trembling he pulls Revek closer, but that only causes them to sputter in pain, crying out in distress. Their claws held tighter.

"Hey. Shhh. Rev. Rev - You're going to be okay." He couldn't promise them that. He shouldn't have promised them that. "I…"

Thistlewind could tell he was already losing them. There wasn't anything he could do but comfort them. Be there for them. 

"You're not alone. We're here." He whispers, and he could feel Revek tremble in his arms, tears trickling down their face. "I'm so sorry we weren't here sooner. I'm so sorry." 

Markoth knelt beside them. Despite the larger moths' collected, stoic nature, he could tell even he wasn't taking this well. Why would he? Thistlewind coos quietly at Revek. The smaller bug's grip on his arms weakens. He looks up at Markoth desperately as if he could fix this. His brother shakes his head. Revek slumps against Thistlewind, chest rising and falling slower, more laboured with each breath. 

"Revek?"

They don't reply still. The protector's head lulls back, gaze to the Glade's ceiling. Another strained breath, shaking.

" _I'm scared._ "

"I know." Thistlewind murmurs, nodding solemnly. "I know." 

Markoth takes one of Revek's claws in his own, holding it gently. "We're here. You don't have to be afraid."

They halfheartedly chuckle, only to wince and squeeze their eyes shut, leaning against Thistlewind. "I didn't-" They shakily squeeze Markoth's hand, visibly hurting. "I. I thought I'd be alone." 

Revek stares up at the rooftop. They close their eyes again. "I'm really - I'm _really_ glad you're here." Their voice was trembling. They didn't have much more time. "I…" They audibly clench their jaw. "Thank- Thank you? For being my brothers."

"That's… All I could have asked for." They murmur, sounding almost tired. 

Their head fell limp against Thistlewind's chest, exhaustedly. Their chest still rose and fell, albeit slowly. Worn. Their claws slip from Thistlewind's arms. A few last wheezing, strained breaths. Revek stared up at him, their energy drawn thin. 

Their body went slack. 

He tenses.

"Revek?" No response. "Revek?" A wail catches in his throat. 

Markoth watches, silently, staring. Thistlewind pulls Revek to his chest, placing their forehead to his, burying himself against them. _Come back. Wake up. You can't just leave us yet._ It wasn't fair. This wasn't fair. He didn't want to accept this. Tears drip off his trembling chin, soaking his fallen sibling's chest. This was just a bad dream. They aren't gone. He's going to see them tomorrow. Wake up and find them awake before anyone else, already headed off to take their post. He'd see them again for lunch, when they left their post for the night and when they would stop to pick up their little sister from a friends home. They-

A hand places itself on his shoulder, and Thistlewind raises his head to meet Markoth's eye. He must have looked disheveled, his brother's features softened almost immediately.

"It's only fair I inform their family. Do you need me to stay a while longer?" 

"I. We. We _are_ their family." 

"Yes, but does their mother not deserve to know? Their father? What of his youngest sister? We will not be the only to grieve, please, Thistlewind. Reason with yourself." Markoth stands, covering his face as he tries to ignore the tears that pricked his eyes. "I'm sorry. I can't expect that of you now."

He was hurting, too. Why wouldn't Markoth be hurting, too? Revek was his sibling as well. The whole incident was so sudden. It was luck that the two had even made it in time to say their goodbyes. 

How long had they been lying there, in agony?

Thistlewind stares up at Markoth, not in contempt. His mind felt foggy, dazed. He didn't want to look down. Thistlewind's jaw trembled, tears still streaking of his cheeks. 

"Thistlewind?"

He only hums quietly in response, to let him know he heard. Markoth kneels down again, pressing his head against Thistlewind's gently. "I'll return. Stay with them, please. I'll send aid."

Thistlewind nods, closing his eyes briefly before looking down upon the corpse in his arms. He looks back up at Markoth as he stands, strapping a bloodied nail to his back. His little brother paused a moment, back turned before he began his walk. Thistlewind lays Revek against the stone, placing a claw over their eyes, shutting all four with a gentle touch. He places the warrior's hands onto their chest, covering the wound that ended their life. 

He sits, waiting, allowing himself his grief. 

Revek wasn't coming back. That's just a fact he'd just learn to live with.


	2. Chapter 2

There were only hushed whispers as Markoth found his way back into the village he called home. 

A moth bloodied of his own accord is a sight seldom beheld. The red moth ignored the stares and murmurs, having all but been used to them his entire life. Claws reach for his bloodied helmet, pulling it from his head and holding it to his chest. He shakes his head, two uneven antennae ruffled from being hidden within the horns of his helm. Cloak dirty, and dragging against the stones, stained with a splatter of dark cyan. His wings were never the cleanest, or the well groomed. He was certain they had tatters and holes all throughout the edges. He didn't care to make an attempt to preen his wings. If they were to become scuffed and damaged, so be it. Markoth raises a claw to his face, rubbing at his eyes. He shakes off the wet tears from his hand, he wasn't aware he had been tearing up. 

He was trying to stay distracted. 

Something lightly grabbed, and tugged at his cloak. Just a little above his waist. "...Markoth?"

He stops. Markoth looks over his shoulder to see his mother, a single hand clutching the back of his cloak. He places his hand over hers gently, sending her a soft glance. It was a sudden motion that she grasps his hand, ushering him out of the village centre, silent. Only when the two are just outside his mother's home does she stop, and turn to look at him.

Markoth wheezes quietly. He needed to catch his breath. 

The Seer cups his face, pulling the taller moth to her height in concern. He huffs in surprise, not to mention already being winded. Dark eyes scanned him over, evidently looking for injury. Did she not think of that when she dragged him half way through the village? Why rush him around?

"Mother, I'm fine." He murmurs, gently prying a hand from his face. 

She didn't seem to accept that answer. Seer frowns, large lavender eyes shutting with a shake of her head. "You've been crying, Markoth. You're bloodied. What happened? Where's your brother?"

He sighs, standing up straight, holding his helmet in his secondary set of arms. "Thistlewind is within the Glade, he is alive and well." 

"Then what…?"

"Revek." It was all he could get out. 

"What about them?"

Markoth is silent. He stares down at his mother, before slowly shaking his head. He closes his eyes, taking a slow, shaking breath. "They've passed."

Markoth watched his mother's features soften, shaking her head. A hand covers her face, and he watches as her shoulders shake. Markoth kneels, setting his helmet aside, placing a hand on her left shoulder. She's silent. He pulls her into a hug, the smaller moth burying her head into his shoulder. 

"...What happened?" She quietly croaks out, words muffled and quiet. He could feel the tears wetting his cloak.

It took him a moment to respond. His gaze was fixed on whatever was in the distance. Hazy, spaced out. "Graverobber." He murmurs. "They were murdered."

His mother may not have raised the bug, but Revek was something of a sibling to him & his brother, and the Seer had a fondness for the protector as well. Their parents were friends with his mother, an extended family they had made. No doubt she would be grieving the loss of Revek in the coming days. They were a well liked bug, content and loyal to their duties. Everyone was going to miss them. He wonders if he could say the same for himself when the time came. 

Markoth murmurs an "I'm sorry" as he felt more tears soak his shoulder. "We did all we could." Claws tighten around his waist, and he knows he's helpless in comforting his poor mother.

It's not until a few minutes later that she's calmed down, somber and quiet. The smaller moth stared at the ground, teary eyed and silently hiccuping. Markoth kneeled across from her, head bowed, looking away. Her head raises, a few tears dribbling down her chin. "...What became of the bug who killed them? You didn't leave Thistlewind to his own defenses, did you?

Markoth was silent. He didn't look his mother in the eyes. He drew his nail from his back, and laid it on the ground before her. Hemolymph had darkened with the time it took for him to return to the village, but it was clear the blade was stained with the blood of another. Seer looked up at her son, with large, gaping eyes.

"He desecrated the dead, stole Revek away from us and would have shown no hesitance to do the same to me or Thistlewind." Markoth didn't meet his mother's gaze. "I take shame in what I did, but it was to be done." 

" _Markoth… _"__

__"He raised his nail to me, mother. What was I to do? You do not need to bury two of your children tonight."_ _

__The Seer was silent, staring numbly at the blade before her. The small moth shook her head. "I don't blame you for what you've done." She says, rubbing away a rogue tear that streaked down her chin. "Do not blame yourself, either."_ _

__She's quiet._ _

__"Let me go tell their family… I believe it would be best if I gave the news." Her voice is quiet, somber. "Please, go take care of yourself. You've been through enough for one day."_ _

__"I. Mother."_ _

__"I'm not going to fight you on this one. Please. Just go get washed up, and rest. I'll see to this. I'll send Thistlewind home when time permits."_ _

__He sighs. "Alright. Alright."_ _

__Markoth clutched his nail with trembling claws, using it as a crutch as he stood. It likely dulled the blade. He didn't care. He could sharpen it later. All he needed in the moment was to stand, and not lose his balance. Or his dinner. He felt sick. His mother was already along her way, albeit at a low pace. Markoth didn't blame her. Eyes glance down at his helmet, bloodied and still lying against the stone, mossy ground._ _

__He doesn't pick it up._ _

__Markoth stares at his mother's home, then gazes back towards the cave walls where the Resting Grounds began. He looks away._ _

__His nail falls to the ground with a clatter._ _

__Tears bubbled and dripped off his face, his jaw trembling. He drops to his knees, clutching his head with a sob. Two people died before him today. One life he took. The other his sibling. This wasn't supposed to happen. Markoth keened, unrestrained, sobbing. He felt as if he were a caterpillar again, sobbing and wailing. He was supposed to be the strong one. He was supposed to be there for everyone else._ _

__No one was going to see him in such a state of disarray._ _

__He clutches either side of his cloak, his secondary arms hugging both sides of his waist. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not yet. He stares vacantly at the mossy stones, watching as tears dripped and splattered against them. Revek was gone. He watched them die. He watched his own sibling die._ _

___They weren't alone_ , he reassures himself. That didn't help his throat from feeling raw, bawling as if he were just a grub. He was supposed to be there for the others. If he had just gotten there sooner. Just a few minutes earlier. He takes a short, shaking breath as he tries to refill his lungs. It felt like his chest was on fire. It wasn't fair. Life isn't fair. He knows that quite well. Markoth stares up at the cavern ceiling, feeling tears rush down his throat onto the collar of fur about his neck. He chokes a sob as he clutches at the beads nestled against it. _ _

__He wasn't sure what god the Weavers & the bugs of Deepnest believed in, or if they had any, but he hoped they were more merciful than his own._ _


End file.
